


i'd find you again

by msaudreyanne



Category: Anastasia (1997), Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff and Angst, movie/broadway mashup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:28:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26671414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msaudreyanne/pseuds/msaudreyanne
Summary: basically, I saw a gif of two people kissing and one of them pulls them in by a necklace and THIS WAS BORN.I kind of mixed the broadway and movie storylines together to get this, so hopefully it's not too all over the place!
Relationships: Dimitri | Dmitry/Anya | Anastasia Romanov (Anastasia 1997 & Broadway)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 54





	i'd find you again

He’s trying to memorize her face as he’s urging her towards the secret passage out of the palace.

“Dima! Dima wait!”

“Nastya, you need to go! They’re coming!” His heart breaks in two at the thought of this being the last time they see each other. Her eyes should only ever twinkle with mirth as she teases him. Or shine with happiness when he sneaks her sweets from the kitchen after everyone else has gone to bed. Now though, there is nothing but fear etched across her face.

“Here. Take this.” She removes the gold chain from around her neck to place over his head. “We’ll find each other again, won’t we, Dima?”

“Even in a crowd of thousands, I’d find you again, your Highness.” He makes sure to tuck the necklace under his shirt so no one will try to take it from him.

She manages a small smile, tears filling her eyes, and she reaches up to kiss him one last time.

“Don’t lose that or I will kill you!” Her delicate hand cups his cheek, thumb brushing against his skin.

But then he’s shoving her through the passageway towards her waiting grandmother and turning to distract the soldiers. He doesn’t put up much of a fight, but he hopes it’s enough to give her time to escape.

When he comes to the next morning, he can’t help but wonder if it was all some kind of sick nightmare. Any moment now, Anastasia will come to scold him for keeping her waiting. That hope is dashed as soon as he feels the cool metal against his chest. He pulls the chain out of his shirt and sure enough, it’s the same necklace he never saw Anastasia without.

Something sparkles in his peripheral and his heart would break again, if it wasn’t already destroyed from the night before. There on the floor, is the music box that Anastasia had run back to get. Dmitry can’t help but feel frustration at her for risking her life for such a trinket, only for it to be left behind. But then, as he picks up the one of a kind piece, this allowed him to say goodbye.

* * *

Perhaps that made it all worse… If he hadn’t seen her before she left, maybe he could’ve moved on with his life. Instead, he’s left to wonder if she managed to escape the terrible fate that her parents and siblings met.

He had wished that he’d hear news of her arrival in Paris with her grandmother. It was a foolish wish, but he would imagine himself finally getting out of Russia and finding her alive and well, eagerly awaiting his return to her. He’d give her the necklace and music box back and she’d kiss him silly and they’d finally get their fairy tale come true.

Never mind that even disgraced Grand Duchesses don’t marry kitchen boys. Dmitry’s life had been nothing but struggle and restlessness since the revolution. He’s always looking over his shoulder, desperate not to catch the ire of the wrong Bolshevik. This imaginary future with his Nastya was the one indulgence he allowed himself.

Sometimes, when he’s alone and feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders, he’ll pull the pendant from under his shirt and try to make out the syllables etched into the gold. It’s definitely French, but he can barely read Russian, so he has no clue what it says.

He could ask Vlad, but that would mean revealing the necklace and Dmitry isn’t about to put his most prized possession in jeopardy.

* * *

Anya comes into his life much like Anastasia had. When he first went to work at the palace, he hadn't anticipated falling in love with the youngest Grand Duchess, but Anastasia had a certain talent for bullying her way into people's hearts. He'd tried to keep his distance, but she only huffed and grabbed his hand, pulling him after her.

Dmitry hadn’t expected his stomach to drop when he sees Anya for the first time, the necklace warm against his chest, but then it’s gone with a shake of his head and a reminder that this is all one big con to get him rich and out of Russia. She may look eerily similar to his long-lost love, but he can't spend too much effort studying that. Not when Anya is quick to sass him – another trait of Anastasia’s that made his tired heart ache. Anastasia had always followed her harsh words with a kiss to his brow. Anya does nothing of the sort.

They truly despise each other for quite some time. Dmitry struggles with the idea of an imposter Anastasia. It feels wrong to him. He takes his frustrations out on Anya by constantly goading her, a tiny part of him hoping that perhaps she’ll give up on their deal after they get out of Russia and they’ll part ways. Anya, for her part, had learned to be quick and defensive traveling across Russia alone. She gives as good as he does, never backing down or running away and before too long his frustrations towards Anya morph into frustration at himself.

He can’t grow attached to this woman. She is just a means to an end, no matter how much she is starting to remind him of Anastasia.

Then Vlad makes them dance onboard the Tasha and Dmitry realizes he’s a goner.

Anastasia had taught him how to dance, once. There had been a grand ball that she’d finally been able to attend. Afterwards, she’d found him in the hallways and drug him into the privacy of her room. She’d giggled uncontrollably at his blush as she settled his hand on her waist. They swayed around her bedroom for what felt like hours, the faint hum of the music carrying over from the ballroom helping to guide his clumsy steps.

As soon as Anya slid her hand into his, Dmitry’s transported back in time to that bedroom. All he knows is that the crystal blue eyes stare back at him, joyful and shy all at once, and the rest of the world disappears from around them. When Anya leans in, Dmitry almost brings himself to close the gap. Then he remembers this isn’t Anastasia’s bedroom and while he might feel something for Anya, she will soon hate him again once she learns of their plan.

He should know better than to get attached to good things in his life.

* * *

The night before the ballet, he finds himself at the door to Anya’s hotel room.

She looks surprised to see him there, but still invites him in. He tries to ignore the way her hair seems to shine in a way he’d only ever seen Anastasia’s manage. He remembered overhearing her sisters gripe about how the lovely locks were wasted on her because she was always bucking against the refinement that was expected of a Grand Duchess.

His fingers ached to reach out and run through the strawberry blonde tresses, eager to see if it was as soft as he remembered.

Dmitry gives himself another shake – he’s having to do that quite a lot lately – and remembers why he was here.

The key to gaining an audience with the Dowager burns a hole in his coat pocket. He’s loathe to let anyone in on one of his secret possessions, but this is necessary for them to convince her of Anya’s authenticity.

When he shows Anya the music box, her eyes light up.

“It’s like a dream! Or…a dream of a dream? Does that make sense? Wherever did you get it?”

He’s mesmerized by the achingly familiar joy he sees. Dmitry can’t find it in himself to continue to lie to her.

“I found it at the palace, after it had been sacked. The Dowager had given this to Anastasia and I knew it was important, so I held onto it in case she ever came back for it.”

And it’s the truth. Dmitry had kept the music box safe for years before the Anastasia rumors ever started circulating. While not as important to him as the necklace, it was still a reminder of happier times. If Anastasia was willing to risk her life for it, the least he could do was keep it safe from harm.

He doesn’t mention how his heart had stopped when he’d come to that morning and seen the music box on the ground next to him.

Anya looks at him curiously. “How do you know all of this, Dmitry?”

“I uh…I worked in the palace…” He’s leaving a lot out, but it’s not a lie. How can he tell Anya that he’s been in love with a lost princess since he was 10? Besides, he can’t help but feel torn between his loyalties towards Anastasia and the growing fondness he has towards the street sweeper in front of him.

Anya seems to take his response as adequate. She fiddles with the music box, trying all of the tricks he’d exhausted decades ago.

“It won’t open…I’ve tried everything – I think it’s been broken since the night of the raid when it must’ve fallen.”

Anya studies the music box for a moment longer and then starts muttering to herself.

“If only we had the key…”

Dmitry’s heart stops. “The what?”

She seems surprised to have been heard. Her eyes, glossed over from whatever memory she lost herself in, clear at his voice.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I just…I think I know how to open this, but it needs a special key. A necklace…if that makes sense? I don’t know why, but I remember a necklace…”

Dmitry’s heart is now beating so fast he’s sure she can hear it. How could she not? No one. Not a single soul alive – aside from the Dowager and himself – know about the necklace.

The pendant seems to burn against his skin now. He’s not sure what he’s doing or if this is a good idea, but his hand is reaching below his collar to grab the necklace that’s stayed next to his heart since he’d given it away all those years ago.

“…Is this…the necklace?”

Anya gasps and holds the pendant in her hand delicately, aware of the fact that Dmitry hadn’t removed the chain from around his neck.

Only Anastasia would be allowed to take this necklace back from him.

“Ensemble à Paris…” Her accent is perfect.

“Excuse me?”

“Together…in Paris…” She inserts the pendant into the music box and turns the now-key. Sure enough, the lid pops open and a tinkling melody fills the thick air between them. She gently sets the music box on the nightstand and looks up to meet his eye and it’s as if all of her memories have come back to her at once.

“Dima…” she breathes into the room. Tears fill her eyes and Dmitry can feel his throat constrict at the name he hasn’t been called in decades.

“…Nastya?” He’s careful; terrified of waking up cold and alone back in Russia, all of this one terrible, beautiful dream.

“You…you kept this, all this time?” She still holds the pendant in her hand, chain weighing heavy against his neck.

“I promised you, your Highness, I’d find you again.”

She tugs on the chain and her lips crash against his.

They have so much to discuss – particularly where they go from here – but for now, they’re both content to stay locked in each other’s embrace. Anya lays back against the bed, pulling Dmitry with her. They break for air and he’s sure his smile is blinding. His heart pieces itself back together with his Nastya in his arms and finally, Dmitry lets himself rest.

**Author's Note:**

> I know this is kind of similar to my "the boy in the palace" fic and now that I'm posting it I'm worried it's too similar so if you hate it, I'm sorry!!!
> 
> Anyways my brain is mush from grad school and I need a vacation. 
> 
> Thanks for reading 💛💛💛 Leave a comment if that's your thing!


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